Boyfriend In Training
by Choice
Summary: How to tame a badass: Kurt Hummel's struggles and successes in making a decent boyfriend out of the sexually notorious idiot with the mohawk. Some "chapters" contain mature/sexual themes that I'll try to point out in the beginnings.
1. Come

**Come**_  
boys, boys, boys with hairspray and denim

* * *

_Even if I wrote this sometime after "Lay Down," chronologically, _this_ comes first. (Ha, no pun intended.) This is **NSFW**, porn-filled, and so on. Porn is what I write most of the time, so just read each and every story of mine with trepidation (and without young eyes lurking over your shoulder). I can't even afford therapy for myself, so I definitely can't re-compensate you for the therapy you or a loved one needed after glancing at this.  
Also: the italicized quote is from another Lady GaGa song, "BoysBoysBoys."

That aside, enjoy!

* * *

Kurt would have never expected his first time to be like _this_. He'd always considered himself a romantic, first and foremost. He wasn't a prude by any means-he was a _teenage boy_, for Versace's sake-but Kurt knew (or thought, at least) he wasn't easy. If someone had let him take a peek into the future to see himself getting down and dirty _out in the wilderness_ with Noah Puckerman, of all boys, he would have disregarded the always-serious and always-constant threat of premature laugh lines and had a serious fit of OMGROFLMAO.

As it was, his v-card was being yanked from him and shredded into pieces by someone Kurt wasn't sure he even liked; forget about _love_. Judging by the way Puck kept trying to fondle Kurt's nonexistent boobs, the other boy didn't care much about him either. And yet Kurt couldn't find it in himself to care, not when Puck kept doing that thing with his teeth that made it feel like his nipples were going to be torn off (in the _best _way possible).

Of course, this was a prime moment for Fate to go and screw around with Kurt's already reality-television-dramatic life.

"Oh my god," Puck muttered, like he just heard that ANTM was back for another season. (Or whatever it was people like Noah Puckerman flipped a shit over.) "Oh _god_."

Kurt opened his eyes and glared impatiently at Puck, who was grimacing down at Kurt's (rather impressive) boner poking out from his slacks. "Why. The fuck. Did you _stop?_"

It was like Puck realized that this wasn't some horrific wet dream procured by his possibly closeted, _definitely _beer-rotted brain. That no, Kurt was _not_ a figment of his imagination but was very real (and _very _hard) indeed. Puck might've even pinched himself on the arm, but Kurt was too busy trying to turn the asshole into a pile of ashes with the power of his stare alone.

"I-uh…" Puck swallowed, nervously backing away.

Kurt would later blame what happened next on years of pent-up sexual frustration and maybe Finn Hudson and his annoyingly endearingly annoying obliviousness, to some extent. (Kurt knew Finn was about as sharp as a marble, but come _on_-Kurt had done everything short throwing himself at the lovable lug.)

Before Puck could vanish in a cloud of dust like Road Runner, Kurt reached out and yanked Puck back to him. In a strange bout of adrenaline, Kurt pinned the taller boy to the large oak tree Kurt had been pressed up against just seconds before. The jock looked slightly frightened, but mostly surprised. Kurt had to work fast to avoid the pissed-off, get-off-me-you-fag Puck, so as quickly as he possibly could, he shoved himself forward and into Puck's personal space. Kurt breathed an inward sigh of relief when he felt that Puck was a _little_ turned on from all of this, and it felt less like he was raping some not-so-innocent boy in the wilderness and more like he was the experienced teacher and Puck was the one wading in the waters of insecurity.

"Are you scared?" Kurt asked as calmly as possible, letting his kneecap barely brush against Puck through his jeans. The poor mohawked idiot looked torn between running away and dry-humping Kurt's leg.

"'M not _scared,_" Puck hissed, his face turning red as his groin twitched forward of its own accord. "Just not a-_oh!_ Fuck… Not a fag."

Kurt bristled with irritation. "Well judging by _this_-" He took his hand and pressed it up against Puck's hard, hot dick, making Puck squeak. "-you're not exactly straight, either."

"A hot body's a-_ungh_-body, Hummel," Puck hissed out through clenched teeth.

"So what's there to get stage fright over?" Kurt prodded, smirking as Puck groaned and let his head fall back with a heavy _thud _against the tree trunk. "No one's around to see-I don't think the squirrels will be divulging any information to that slime-ball Israel anytime soon."

Puck said nothing in response, but ever so slowly, hesitant hands petted the front of Kurt's still-tented pants, reaching in through the previously undone fly to touch him through his Armani boxers. Kurt sighed in happy relief, his eyes almost drifting shut from how _good_ this all felt. Puck was right, a hot body was a…

Kurt's eyes nearly bulged out of their sockets, and just as he was about to open his mouth to ask Puck if he _really_ thought Kurt was hot, he paused, weighing his decision. Would getting his ego stroked be better than having his _dick_ stroked? And if Kurt made anymore assumptions about Puck's sexuality in one day, well, he'd either end up hard and left to grind up on a tree, or he'd get a nice, firm kick to the balls.

In the end, Kurt moved forward, somehow managing to pull Puck's hand off of him so he could press their bodies together. The jock beneath him (Kurt didn't laugh at the irony of the situation) made all sorts of hot, _kind of_ cute little noises in the back of his throat, his eyes tightly clenched shut as they ground together. "Fuck," Puck gasped. "Fuckfuckfuck."

Kurt just grinned and sucked Puck's bottom lip between his teeth. He nearly bit Puck's lip in half when his bare chest happened to slide against Puck's. The feel of warm, sculpted pectorals against his hypersensitive, bruised-up nipples was almost too much, and it was _his _turn to toss his head back and make embarrassing noises.

Puck seemed renewed by Kurt's soft mewls. His arms, so toned and _so good_, wrapped around his waist and began stroking the bulge of Kurt's pelvic bone. His skin seemed to be set on fire by those confident touches, and in the back of Kurt's mind (where he wasn't either mindless from pleasure or desperately memorizing the feel of Puck's biceps), he was surprised that Puck allowed himself to be in such a submissive position. His clearly strong and able body was being held down by the kid he usually tossed into dumpsters, and Kurt couldn't deny the power trip this all gave him. It was almost as intoxicating as the feel of foreign flesh he was trying to melt into.

His traitorous mind began envisioning Puck lowered onto his knees before him, his eyes wide open, full of adoration and lust as he took Kurt into his mouth. As Kurt fucked his mouth, as Kurt _came_ in his mouth…

He did the next best thing (because as hot as that image was, he highly doubted Puck would _ever _be up to sucking dick) and bent down in front of Puck, his eyes all for the front of the boy's jeans as he slowly unzipped them. Puck's breathing sped up even more, if it were possible, only to catch when Kurt wrapped his hand around Puck with little fanfare. "Should've figured you'd be the type to go Commando," Kurt dryly retorted, his voice scratchy and wavering.

"What're you…_ ah,_" Puck slammed his head backwards so roughly that bits of woodchip confetti rained down into Kurt's mussed hair as Kurt sucked the head of Puck's dick into his salivating mouth.

It wasn't as amazing as he'd thought it would be, but Kurt found pleasure in feeling Puck twitch in his mouth, hearing Puck whimpering above him. He nearly choked when tentative hands gently stroked the debris out of his hair, almost reverently tickling the line of his jawbone. His wide eyes met Puck's, through the fringe of his hair. The boy stopped what he was doing, embarrassment managing to flush his cheeks even more than arousal did.

"Don't stop, Hummel," He growled, but Kurt could hear the nervous waver, otherwise Kurt would've stood up and walked away for Puck to suffer, even if it meant blue balls for him, too.

He warningly scraped his teeth against the underside of Puck's cock, smirking at the shocked yelp it induced. "Bitch," Puck muttered with little venom, sighing and closing his eyes when Kurt got back into dizzying rhythm.

It took barely a minute more for Puck to come, and right before he did, he tried yanking Kurt off of him. Kurt paused and let his mouth squeeze tighter as he opened his eyes to look at Puck. "Going to…" Was all the panting boy could get out before Kurt took as much of him into his mouth as he could, using his tongue to swirl and stroke until Puck came with a shout. "_Fuck!"_

Kurt gagged a bit at the bitter-salty flavor, but managed to swallow what wasn't mixed with spit and running down his face in small rivulets.

He watched Puck regain consciousness, lightly sucking a hickey on the inside of Puck's solid thigh, slipping a hand inside of his boxers and stroking himself as the boy shuddered. "Good _God,_ Hummel, you sure you never done that before?"

Kurt didn't bother answering; he just pressed his sweaty face against Puck's navel, puffing damp breaths against tan skin as his hand on his dick quickened. He could practically feel Puck's leer as he stared down at the crown of Kurt's head. "Need some help there?"

Just as Kurt was about to tell Puck to kindly fuck off (or fuck _him_, he wasn't too sure), he was knocked onto the ground, a hot force keeping him pinned and unable to move as Puck took up where Kurt left off. Puck nipped at Kurt's earlobe, his other hand coming up to twist and tug at already abused nipples. Kurt tried arching his back up off the earth floor to no avail, and he wasn't sure if he felt claustrophobic or turned on.

"Gonna come for me, Hummel?" Puck growled right into Kurt's ear, making him shudder and moan. "

His voice was short-circuited to his throbbing dick, and with each guttural, dirty word, Kurt grew hotter and hotter, until he was teetering on the edge of climax.

He cried out when Puck squeezed the base of his dick, nanoseconds before Kurt came. "_Asshole!_" He hissed, clawing at the bastard's chest. Puck snickered darkly, his tight grip easing to continue stroking after a moment.

"You're so easy, Hummel," Puck murmured, licking at the shell of Kurt's ear. He felt Puck harden against his abdomen, and he was part-enraged that the bastard was getting off on this strange form of teasing. But Kurt had to concede, he'd take _this_ over slushie facials any day.

But when he was denied twice more, he wasn't so sure. Kurt was so frustrated he was almost in tears, and sweat pooled into every possible crevice of his body. Puck softly ground against him as his vice-like grip kept Kurt from pleasure. Was it possible to explode from this? Because he felt like a balloon, about to pop from the pressure.

"Puck," He choked out, his eyes tightly shut when that traitorous hand began moving once again. "I need-_please…!_"

"What?" Puck asked breathlessly into Kurt's ear. "Tell me what you need."

"Need to-_fuck!_-let me come, can't-can't…" Kurt was almost hyperventilating, scratching deep marks into Puck's back.

"Beg," The jock commanded, "Beg me, say _Please Puck, please-_"

"Please let me fucking come, you douche!" Kurt screeched in relief when that hand sped up, and within seconds he was experiencing what could only be described as dying from pleasure overload.

Through the bursts of color and blinding white behind his closed eyelids, Kurt could hear Puck grunting as he jacked himself off. Kurt whimpered as Puck's hot semen spurted on his spent dick, his whole body twitching at the tickling sensation.

Puck collapsed on top of Kurt, and they both lay spent on the forest floor as they waited for the world to quit spinning.

Kurt shifted when the jock's weight made it impossible to breathe properly. "Get offa me," He muttered sleepily.

"Quit bein'…" Puck yawned, "Bein' a bitch." He scooched over on his side, though, and Kurt gasped in a lungful of woodsy air.

It took a few more minutes for them to start moving and getting redressed. Kurt hopped on one foot to dislodge a piece of pinecone from his pant leg as Puck snickered next to him. He gained retribution by chucking an acorn at Puck's head.

"So…" Ah, here came the lovely awkwardness. Puck shuffled on his feet. "I'm still not gay."

"You're not exactly straight, either," Kurt said smugly, running his fingers through his hair in a poor attempt to neaten it up. He was beginning to feel disgustingly unclean, and he hoped a nice, warm shower would make him feel better.

He frowned in surprise when Puck sheepishly shrugged, nodding his head a bit in acquiescence. "You are kinda hot… for a girly-boy."

Kurt didn't know why he was grinning as he watched Puck's retreating figure, but he knew a part of him really wanted this to happen again.

He turned and looked at the tree they'd used, patting its rough trunk almost lovingly. Kurt took his stained scarf and tied it on a nearby branch.

Before he drove out of the parking lot, he found the flash of yellow and smirked to himself. GaGa was his soundtrack as he made his way home, thinking of sculpted abs and hot come as he sang along. "_You taste just like glitter mixed with rock and roll…_"


	2. Lay Down

**Lay Down**_  
as our fingers entwine, and your sighs harmonize with mine

* * *

_

Just a very short snippet of another moment in the Kurt-and-Puck relationship I'm detailing. I don't think there's much to worry about in this, as far as NSFW goes, but whatever.  
The above italicized quote is from an Owl City song-"If My Heart Was A House." Really amazingtastic song; check it out. c:

Enjoy!

* * *

__

When all was said and done-the condom tied and thrown away, unseemly messes wiped off of flushed, balmy skin-Puck bowed his head and gave Kurt a final, searing kiss.

He went to get up and tug on his jeans, but before he could take a single step a hand grabbed at his wrist. "Where do you think you're going?" Kurt asked, somehow managing to sound simultaneously amused and offended. Puck paused, his brow furrowed.

"Um… getting my pants? I can't exactly walk home Commando. I'm a badass, not a _jackass_."

"Too bad," Kurt said, resolutely firm as he pulled Puck back into his bed with surprising strength. "It's in bad taste to come and go."

Puck was speechless with incredulity as Kurt meshed their naked bodies together, one small but muscled leg curling around Puck's hip (it was proof enough just how mind-blowing sex was with Kurt that his dick didn't give more than one weak twitch) and Kurt's arms lazily coiling themselves around Puck's neck, bringing his head down for a couple of lazy open-mouthed kisses.

"What…" Puck cleared his throat, his heart pounding as Kurt nuzzled his chest, mindful of his nipple ring. "What're you doing?"

"What does it look like? I'm _cuddling _you. Now shut up and let me take a nap. It's not every day that I come twice in a row."

"Yeah, I'm pretty awesome aren't I?" He said smugly. Puck frowned at the lack of response. "_Aren't_-oh!"

Kurt removed his teeth from Puck's pierced nipple. "I'm serious. Go to sleep; you're not going anywhere."

Puck grumbled but couldn't deny that he felt a sense of rightness as he tucked his chin into the crook of Kurt's neck, passing off the gentle kiss on that pale neck as a yawn as he closed his eyes.


	3. Speak

**Speak  
**_oh, i'll never talk again_

* * *

Another bit for my Boyfriend In Training universe, depicting an important milestone of their relationship, I s'pose? Yeah.  
This has some serious sexytimes, so **NSFW**. I hope you like it! Oh, and also, the italicized quote above is from Lady GaGa's amazing song, "Speechless." if you don't know it, you should definitely check it out. It's different from her usual music, and it's my go-to shower song. :P

Onwards!

* * *

One thing that had always been a constant in their… relationship?… was the fighting.

Not like physical, punching-fighting-he wasn't some weird sadist with strange kinks. (Except that one time with the handcuffs, or that time when they roleplayed, or… well, that's a whole different scenario.) No, it was loud, very passionate verbal sparring, with words as sharp and quick-witted as daggers, as stealthy as invisible ninjas on vitamin D. Puck loved how flushed Kurt got, how the perfect little Hummel strove to keep hold of whatever control he had left. He loved taking those small shards of control, and tossing them out the window when he shoved Kurt up against the nearest solid surface available to shove his tongue into Kurt's hot, wet mouth.

More often than not, the target of Kurt's complaints were Puck's mohawk. It wasn't _so_ bad-arguments over something as stupid as a haircut usually led to angry sex-but when, after a fight, quickly followed by one of their more enthusiastic fucks (legs shouldn't _bend_ like that!)…

"God," Kurt panted from Puck's side a few minutes later, after regaining use of his vocal chords. "Holy…"

"I know," Puck moaned breathlessly, grinning from ear to ear as he snaked his arm around Kurt's sweat-damp neck. He pulled Kurt close for a sloppy kiss, only to roll his eyes when the brunette yawned into his mouth.

"Don't tell me you're not tired, too," Kurt muttered sleepily, burrowing into the bed sheets as the sweat cooled on his goose-bumped skin.

"You're just easy," Puck teased with a grin before tugging at the covers. "Hey," he complained when Kurt clung tighter, "You want my dick to freeze off?" Kurt grumbled under his breath but lifted the sheets up for Puck.

Kurt mewled out another yawn, smiling contentedly as Puck fit himself against his back.

Just before he zonked out, right as the darkness went to swallow him up (like Kurt had done like, less than ten minutes ago), Puck caught that lilting voice whisper "I love you."

Puck knew that Kurt knew _he_ knew, but… Well, it was like a taboo subject for them. They'd never seen the need for those words-actions spoke louder, and all that jazz.

…Did he just make a _Chicago_ reference? In his _mind?_ You know what, whatever.

But yeah, the way Kurt said "Good morning, Noah" to always having his home stocked with junk food (a fact that made Burt grudgingly accept having Puck around)… every little thing (even how Kurt always tossed around empty threats to shave off Puck's "godawful excuse for a haircut" while Puck slept), everything screamed 'love.'

This whole gay love-fest wasn't one-sided, either. He ordered Kurt's foofy Starbucks drinks some mornings before school just to see the brunet light up with pleased surprise (okay, maybe he did it because it also led to making out behind Kurt's Nav). He carried Kurt's man-purse every so often, but not too much, because that would make him look super-whipped. (Plus, you know, the whole 'secretly dating' thing.) He let Kurt talk him into buying a _sparkly pink _vibrator. But really, that was more win-win than anything, and the color did look pretty amazing going in and out of that tight ass...

And Puck _never_ let anyone even hold the remote when _Ninja Warrior_ came on, but he grudgingly relinquished it that one time when the second half of _Fashion Runway_ overlapped it. Hell, the mere fact that Kurt had even been over his house-in his _room_-said wonders: the only other people Puck ever invited over were Finn and… well, Finn. He'd never brought girls home until Kurt (who wasn't a girl, but you get what he's saying), because Kurt was _special._

But now Kurt had to up the ante by saying those three words. It was only that one time, but, well, one little spark could start a fire, right? For the next week, Puck was plagued by that sweet murmur, "I love you" looping in his head like a broken record all throughout the day. It made things a bit awkward and tense between him and Kurt, but Kurt never brought it up, and Puck never said it back.

Puck hated to think about what those furtive glances Kurt kept shooting him meant, and while Kurt didn't retreat completely like some brokenhearted twelve-year-old girl, there was a considerable lack of enthusiasm in the other boy, even when Puck let Kurt ride him. And Kurt _loved_ to be on top, so it was kinda alarming when Kurt didn't seem all that into it.

Ask anyone, and they'd tell you: Puck wasn't with the words. Where Kurt was a walking Merriam-Webster's, Puck was the equivalent of a brick wall. He was all about the _doing_; why say "I love you" when you could just rip off too-tight pants and give awesome head instead?

Puck _definitely _loved Kurt. (He was _pretty _sure that was the feeling that didn't come from inside his jeans… right?) Apparently, he hadn't shown it enough, so the obvious answer was to say it to Kurt. But… He didn't think he could outright _say _it. He'd practiced in his bathroom mirror a couple times, sure, but he assumed saying "I love you too, Kurt" was a lot more intense when saying it _to_ Kurt, and not his goofy, shaving cream-covered reflection.

He couldn't go and sing his feelings-Kurt would probably find it horribly unoriginal and of poor taste (or some b.s. like that). Puck serenaded Rachel, and Kurt loved besting Rachel, and Puck loved Kurt, _therefore,_ Puck needed to one-up himself and his slightly awkward rendition of Neil Diamond to prove to Kurt just how much he cared.

Puck rubbed at his skull, wincing. Thinking hurt. He frowned when he got a bit of shaving cream in his mohawk, reaching with his shaver-wielding hand to wipe it off.

He froze with the razor in mid-air, and Puck distantly heard the _plop_ of a glob of Barbasol hitting the tiled floor when his foamy jaw dropped. _Doofus!_ The most obvious solution to all of this! Why didn't he think of it before?

As Puck looked from the blade glinting in the fluorescent lighting to his awesome hair, his face of epiphany faded into a reluctant grimace. Just how much did he love Kurt, though? Enough to take away the one thing, besides his awesome body toneage, that practically defined him?

He stonily met his own gaze. "Puck, you're a beast," He assured himself. "You're a pussy if you're using a _hairstyle_ as a crutch. Man up!"

And if anyone overheard a baritone voice singing _Who Loves You _around the buzzing of a shearer, Puck would blame Kurt for "musically enriching his life."

His sister just stared at him when he walked into the kitchen the next morning, gaping and giving Puck a lovely display of her half-chewed Golden Grahams. "Close your mouth, twerp," He said with overdramatic disgust. She shot him a glare and went back to munching.

"Morning, Noah," His mother muttered, turning around with a plate full of-

"_Good fucking Lord, what the hell-_"

Puck and his sister both watched, wide-eyed as their mother slapped her hands over her mouth. The poor waffles, buttery and syrup-drenched, were strewn over his mom's favorite pair of slippers, and the plate (thankfully plastic) had landed with a drawn-out rolling noise a little ways away.

All was silent, until: "Mom…" Mackenzie said slowly, blinking owlishly. "Did you just use the Lord's name in vain?"

Puck yelped when he was suddenly cuffed on his bald head, and smacked away his mother's hands when she went to thwack him again. "Yo, crazy bitch, what'd you put in your coffee this morning!"

"How _dare_ you nearly give me a heart attack, Noah Isaac Puckerman!" She screeched, in full-out banshee mode. "And you _made me use the-_oh, good Lord in the Heavens above, please forgive me!" She wailed. "It's not my fault I was given Satan for a son!"

Puck rolled his eyes and left his mother to her ranting and raving as he grabbed a pop-tart to-go. "Later, Mace."

"Later, jerk!" His sister replied, cheerfully skipping around their flailing mom to get ready for school.

Puck walked into school that morning with an air of confidence so strong and genuine that while everyone _did_ stare a little (more than usual-hey, have you _seen_ his guns?), people gave him plenty of breathing room in the halls. Some of the jocks even tossed him some playful backhanded compliments, and the Cheerios all took notice of his shaved head, flirtatiously asking to have a feel. He smirked his Johnny Depp smirk and let them have their fun.

…And, okay, maybe he didn't _accidentally_ faceplant into Maria Johnson's massive boobs. But come on, they were right beneath his nose, and he was all about taking opportunities as they came. Just because he was really into Kurt didn't mean he forgot about his almost obsessive fixation with the female anatomy-but Kurt made it hard to miss big tits when he let Puck do him doggy-style in the locker rooms _during _gym class. _Twice._

He saw some glee clubbers throughout the school day, but not the one fiery gleek he was all amped up about seeing. When he asked where the missing diva was, Mercedes said Kurt had an emergency spa appointment. "But he promised he'd be in for glee," She added, slightly suspicious (but more confused) as to why Puck even cared.

Puck was almost beside himself in excitement, but despite his impatience, it wouldn't do to seem desperate for approval, even if Kurt's kind of mattered. He waited a good ten minutes after glee club started, and when he was assured that everyone-even Kurt-would be in the classroom already, he breezed through the class door right before Schue closed it.

"Puck, you're late," The other man reprimanded, but the effect was ruined by his half-smile. "Like the 'do. Or lack thereof," he laughed.

"Thanks," He said absently, walking past Schue with his Chia-pet hair and looking around for that familiar head of coiffed brunet.

His hopes (and that feeling in his chest) sank when he looked through the group without spotting Kurt. Mr. Schue asked the question he was dying to shout: "Where's Kurt?"

"He's just running a little late, Mr. Schue," Mercedes piped up. "He should be-"

As if on cue, the classroom door opened behind him. Kurt's familiar voice was quietly singing along with whatever was on his iPod. "_Oh, boy you've left me speech…_"

Puck turned at that moment, and Kurt seemed to get whiplash just from laying his eyes on the other jock. Puck couldn't stop the almost painful grin from slipping onto his face.

"Oh my _god_," He shrieked, his hands flailing in mid-air and his iPhone flying out of his hand to _clack_ onto the linoleum floor. "You _did not_-oh my _god!_ Puck?"

Everyone else laughed, but confusion lurked among giggles. _Why was Kurt this shocked? …Is Puck giving _Kurt _the bedroom eyes?_

"Like the new look, Hummel?" Puck asked pseudo-casually, running his hand over his unusually smooth head. "I dunno about it, but there was this one irritating little bitch who kept getting on my case. Said I looked like a less hot version of Travis Barker." He turned his head slightly so no one would catch his covert, sly wink.

Kurt made a strange _meep_ing noise deep in his throat, his eyes comically wide as he took in Puck's shorn head.

"Kurt…" Brittany said slowly from somewhere behind them, "Are you crying?"

Puck's leer melted into a genuine, slightly bashful grin as Kurt frantically wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand. "It's just… I'm just so happy that I can look at Puck's face without wanting to punch him?" He said as casually as he could, his voice reedy with emotion. Puck edged closer to Kurt, shielding them from the rest of the room as Kurt's lower lip wobbled forebodingly. "Puck-" He said in a squeaky, high-pitched voice.

"I'm gonna go take the PMSing drama queen to the bathroom," He said to everyone, staring right into Kurt's eyes. "So he can fix his makeup… or whatever. You know."

They didn't wait for Mr. Schue to let them go before Puck led Kurt out by his forearm, waiting only until the classroom door was shut to pull the other boy close.

Kurt managed to let out a strangled "Why?" into Puck's chest, and the jock bit his lip. _Who knows, here goes… _(Damnit! Stupid catchy show tunes.)

"Because, um. You know… last week? When you said…"

"Yeah." Kurt interrupted quietly, swallowing before glancing up at Puck through his tousled fringe. His shiny, bright eyes and splotchy face made Puck feel warm, like sitting in the sunshine. "What… what about it?"

"I don't…" he trailed off, and realized with horror his error when Kurt pulled away like Puck was on fire. (he was, but, you know, not _literally._) He scrabbled for purchase on Kurt's soft green shirt. "Wait, not what I meant!"

Kurt looked hurt and confused, his eyes watering for a different reason. "What _do_ you mean, Puck?" he asked. "You're getting me all worked up, and I won't have enough time to reapply foundation before glee ends!"

He grinned. "And that's why I love you." He froze, along with Kurt, at his blurted confession. Woah. That… wasn't as hard as he thought it would've been? He repeated it again, slower this time. "…I love you. I love you, Kurt, enough to shave off the 'hawk. So." He frowned when Kurt, gaping, continued to say nothing. "_Please,_ stop looking at me like that. _You're_ freaking _me _out now."

The brunet choked on his tongue, laughing. His eyes sparkled. "Sorry, sorry, I just…" He fisted Puck's flannel overshirt. "Say it again. Please."

"I love you." He backed them into a corner. "I love you." He ran sure fingers through silky-soft hair. "Well? Aren't you gonna-"

"God-I love you, too!" Kurt giggled, leaning up to smash their lips together.

A few minutes later found them both missing oxygen but missing lip contact more, with Puck's hand slowly sneaking under Kurt's polo to tickle the smooth skin of the boy's hip. He moaned when Kurt shimmied against him. "Glee," Puck reminded, albeit halfheartedly.

Those eyes, now darkened to a frighteningly powerful blue-green, stared up at him. "Let's go to my place."

"But-"

"Ask me if I care."

Puck stared, gob smacked, because Kurt always made it a point to go to glee, even that one time when he had that bad throat cold. And then… he grinned. "I drive," He said calmly, "because you drive like a grandma."

Sex was always fucking amazing when Kurt and heating lube were involved, but the after-fuck cuddle time always left him with this strange, bone-deep satisfaction. Puck felt his way along Kurt's spine, his eyes closed and breath coming in peaceful puffs. "I love you," He breathed against Kurt's shoulder. "It feels good to 'fess up, but don't expect me to shout it on-stage in the auditorium."

Kurt giggled sheepishly into Puck's ear, nuzzling that strong, stubble-ridden jaw line as he lay in a lazy heap, body aligned almost perfectly with Puck's. "I suppose it's only fair that I come clean, too." He murmured. "I… never _really _had a problem with your mohawk."

Puck froze before lifting Kurt's chin so their eyes met. "What the hell, Hummel? Then why did you make such a big fuckin' deal out of it?" Seriously! He thought he would be done with the hot-and-cold behaviorisms of girls with Kurt. "I swear to god if this was some bet Aretha or Lopez put you up to-"

"Oh, shut it, Noah." Kurt said pleasantly, grinning as he looked up at Puck through his lashes. "_Mercedes_ didn't dare me, and neither did Santana."

Puck was still scowling, but he was more confused than anything. "So _why'd_ you get so psycho on my ass about the 'hawk? You just said you didn't have a problem with it!"

"Besides the fact that you're so easy to tease?" Kurt asked, still smiling, but his face was getting red now. "You know how good you are-how good _we_ are… together?"

Puck smirked, squeezing the bare ass he'd casually been touching. "_Hell_ yeah, I do." Kurt was a tomato personified now, and Puck raised an amused eyebrow at his boyfriend. He didn't get how Kurt could go from screaming like a cheap whore to acting like a prude nun. Kurt buried his face into Puck's neck and muttered something unintelligible. "Babe, I can't exactly hear you through my skin."

Kurt hesitated, his fingers tightening on Puck's forearms before moving his lips to the shell of Puck's ear. "It's even hotter when you're ticked off at me," He breathed, voice low and embarrassed.

Puck was shell-shocked for all of two seconds before he had the incredible urge to burst into laughter. But for Kurt's ego's sake (and to avoid bodily harm of the not-so-good kind), he kept it at a low-key, shit-eating grin. He used the hands on Kurt's ass as leverage to roll them over so he was on top. He couldn't help but chuckle a bit at Kurt's utterly mortified expression, his hands moving to quickly cover his red face. He smirked when he realized Kurt was half-hard against his thigh. "No lie?"

Kurt moaned when Noah rubbed his leg against his quickly growing erection, his eyes slowly sliding open half-mast. He bit his knuckle, smiling bashfully. "God would strike me dead for lying if I said you didn't turn me on when that vein in your head pulses."

Puck wiggled his eyebrows. "Which _head _are we talkin' about?"

Kurt snickered, letting one leg drape around Noah's back. "Well, if you play your cards right…"


End file.
